(with a tip of the hat to Col. Alvin Thomas, USA ret.)
They said I did a felony / ‘though I weren’t the one to blame
At trial I met my lawyer / she didn’t hardly know my name
The jury and the judge appeared to spacerate and snooze
But when the prosecutor pointed / they rose as one, and cried “J’accuse!”
They say / you’re wearin’ gray pajamas for the next year, sonny
And hey / that’s what you get for not having any money
The other driver caused my car wreck / at the ER they was impressed
By my fractures, severed arteries, and post-traumatic stress
But when they asked for my insurance / and I said, I’ll pay you when I’m able
They told me, give us back those sutures, boy / and get down off our table
The little intern signed my discharge / there’s the door, he said
Now when you get home take two aspirins / and call us if you’re dead
I was hoboin’ in search of work and feelin’ most alone
So I went down to the corner to call my baby on the phone
I said, Hello Central, won’t you give me number nine
She said, your baby’s with a friend of yours / ‘cause you ain’t got a dime
(instrumental)
So if you’re starving, homeless, unemployed / or some other kind of sick
Don’t complain if you gone insane / you crypto-Bolshevik
You strive to stay alive / just to be born and die a midget
While capitalism’s invisible hand is givin’ you the middle digit
When I got old and dived in dumpsters / it sure weren’t no surprise
That the lonesomes and privations got me presently demised
St. Peter then explained to me the bleak unvarnished facts
‘Though you inherited the earth / you could not pay the estate tax
Now I know eternal torment is a punch line short of funny
But don’t you get my Boss all mixed up with the Easter Bunny
Hey boy, here’s what you get / here’s what you get
For not having any money
— R.W. Walker
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